


till it all feels so small

by gay_writes_with_mac



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aunt Tara Reigns Supreme, Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Little bit of angst here and there, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_writes_with_mac/pseuds/gay_writes_with_mac
Summary: Maggie and Glenn's baby is about to make an entrance and Tara doesn't know how to feel.
Relationships: Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee, Tara Chambler & Glenn Rhee, Tara Chambler & Maggie Greene
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	till it all feels so small

It absolutely blew Tara’s mind when Maggie asked her to be there when the baby was born.

She said yes, of course - she wasn’t an _idiot -_ but a big part of her couldn’t get over just how much she seemed to mean to Maggie and Glenn. Without her, Maggie’s father could still be alive. And that’s a burden she’ll carry for the rest of her life, one she carries easily some days and one that on some days seems to crush her into the ground with the overwhelming guilt. The baby on the way could have had a grandfather if it wasn’t for her, she tells herself sometimes. It’s all her fault that they won’t.

She knows Maggie and Glenn don’t believe that, or at least they don’t hold her responsible for that. Glenn’s her best friend, Maggie reminds her so much of her older sister that it hurts sometimes, and loves her just as hard; they wouldn’t be working as much as they are to make Tara a part of their lives if they blamed her. But maybe she blames herself enough for all three of them anyway.

Either way, she was there when her niece was born, and she still remembers being there to look after her when her husband wasn’t, and even though Glenn is very much present and active despite the fact that he looked like he was about to faint from the moment Tara first uttered the phrase “mucus plug,” she’s still there too, sponging the sweat from Maggie’s forehead with a damp cloth and doing her best to encourage her forwards. 

Glenn is fetching more water when Maggie suddenly grabs both of Tara’s hands, tightly, tightly enough that it hurts, the whites of her eyes streaked red and panicked. “Tara - Tara, I can’t do this-”

“Stop,” Tara says at once, squeezing back as encouragingly as she can. “You can, Mags. You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re almost there, and you’re going to be an amazing mom. Come on, do it for the baby.”

Maggie’s grip relaxes just the tiniest bit, some of the panic leaving her brown eyes. Oh, God, Tara’s done this before, and Maggie really does look like her sister as well as act like her, and Lilly almost backed out at the last minute too-

But she refuses to make this about her. “For the baby, “ Maggie repeats, breathless and exhausted and moaning in pain as another contraction hits, and Tara nods, bending down to press a soft kiss to her sweaty forehead before gently releasing her hands. “For the baby. You’re gonna have a baby, Mags. Soon. I’m not bullshitting you, it’s going to be soon.”

And then Glenn is back with more water, and Tara privately thanks God that she doesn’t have the kind of best friend that eats chips while his wife is in labor. No, her best friend is telling dumb dad jokes to take Maggie’s mind off the pain and offering her water and not complaining when she nearly breaks his hand, and that’s one of the so many things she loves about him.

But there’s only so much poor Glenn can take, and he hits the floor when the baby finally comes out, and it’s Tara who catches the newborn and cuts the cord and bathes him quickly before wrapping him up in the blanket prepared for just this moment and offers him to his exhausted mother. “It’s a boy,” she says, smiling as Maggie weakly takes her newborn son into her arms. “See? I told you you could do it. Glenn, on the other hand…”

Glenn groans weakly from the floor, and Tara laughs, bending down to help him up. “Get up, dumbass, little Glenn Jr. is here.”

“That is _not_ going to be his name-” Maggie cuts in at once, and Tara laughs again at how sharp she manages to sound after fourteen hours of labor.

“Course not, Mags, I was kidding.” She makes sure Glenn can wobble over to the bed to meet his son and then retreats awkwardly into the corner, starting to clean up the mess from the birth. This isn’t her moment to be present for, she lectures herself quietly, pouring another glass of water for Maggie and then another for her fainthearted husband. 

But she doesn’t get far before Glenn calls her over, grinning so wide it looks painful. “Hey, Tara!”

She approaches a little cautiously, standing a few feet back from the bed. “Yeah…?”

“You’ll be godmother?”

Tara drops the glass. She never in a thousand years would have expected an offer - no, not just an offer, a privilege - like that. Godmother. Godmother to the baby she robbed of a grandfather. She wants to refuse, yet every instinct except the ones most piloted by her guilt are screaming for her to accept, and all that comes out is a weak, hoarse “are you sure…?”

And then she feels a desperate need to supplement that so they don’t feel like it’s _them_ that’s the problem, because it’s _her,_ and she bursts out with a steady stream of words she can’t seem to control. “Just, because, you know, there’s so many better candidates - Carol had a kid already, she’d be amazing, or Rosita, she’d be a whole lot better at keeping him safe than me, because you know I don’t have the best track record with keeping _kids_ alive-” Fuck, her niece. Meghan. That one hurts. That’s one that never stops hurting. She tries not to think about her too much to keep the pain away. “Or hell, Daryl, he’s so good with Judith-”

“But we don’t _want_ Carol or Rosita or... _Daryl_ to be godmother,” Glenn cuts in gently. “We want _you._ We want you to be Aunt Tara because we trust you. Because you’re amazing. Because dude, you can do a fucking kickflip, and that’s a skill I want handed down, by the way-”

Maggie cuts him off with a smack to the back of the head, smiling tiredly at Tara. She’s radiating a kind of glow, as exhausted as she is, something that has to come from being flooded with love for the tiny baby in her arms that Tara might be about to agree to be an aunt/godmother for. “No kickflips, not for a good long time. But you’re practically part of the family, Tara. No, damn it, you _are_ part of the family. You deserve this. You’re the only person here I trust with my son, and in another five minutes, that’s gonna be including Glenn.”

_Part of the family._ Tara hasn’t had a family in years now. She’s been stumbling through this alone, a lone wolf, fighting her way through this mess of a world with nothing but the gun she started out with by her side. But the baby in Maggie’s arms wails and kicks his little arms around in the air like a tiny bug stuck on its back, and Tara feels a sob catch in the back of her throat as she nods frantically, suddenly overwhelmed with a desperate rush of love for this tiny human that’s a part of her _family_ now. “Could I...could I maybe...hold him…?”

Maggie hands him over at once, complete trust in her eyes, and Tara carefully takes him into her arms. Immediately, one tiny fist bunches around a few strands of her hair, and then he’s asleep in her arms, nestled into her sweatshirt. A tear trickles slowly down Tara’s cheek, then another, then two more after that, and then she’s crying and cradling him, desperately trying to get ahold of herself as she struggles to adjust to the reality that she has a family again, and that part of that family is being _Aunt Tara_ again. 

“What’s his name…?” she asks softly, unable to get over how tiny his little fist is curled around her hair. “Does he have a name yet…?”

“Hershel,” Maggie replies, without a trace of bitterness in her voice. “We’re calling him Hershel.”

Tara sobs quietly, desperate not to wake the baby. “Good name..’s a really good name...of course I’ll be godmother, of course, I’m so fucking _honored,_ I just...I didn’t expect you to ask me…”

“There’s no one else in the world I’d ask,” Maggie answers, even half-asleep. “No one else.”


End file.
